


Yet Another Bloody Crossover

by DarthYautja



Category: Alien Series, Mass Effect, Metroid Series, Predator Series
Genre: AU, Alien 3 never happened, Crucible only killed the Reapers, F/F, F/M, Other M never happened, Post - Aliens, Post - Fusion, Post - ME3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthYautja/pseuds/DarthYautja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place fourteen months after the Reaper War. Molly Shepard, Ellen Ripley, and Samus Aran must team up to fight xenomorphs, Predators, metroids, Weyland-Yutani, and the Cerberus Remnant. Basically everything the title implies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is still very much a work in progress. It is also my first fanfic, and I would appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism you would like to leave. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Yet Another Bloody Crossover

 

Prologue

Part I

8/12/79, Acheron

“Do something, Gorman!” Carter Burke yelled as he turned to flee the xenomorphs swarming the operations center. Before he had gone five steps another one of the monsters punched up through the floor and seized the ratfuck son of a bitch, making good on Hudson’s promise mere minutes before.

Burke’s terrified screams were drowned out by the pulse-rifle fire as the surviving humans fought for their lives. Following Ripley’s desperate command to retreat, they headed for Medical, only to see more aliens pouring in from the far side.

Corporal Hicks slammed the access door to Medical shut and began welding it closed as Vasquez, Gorman, and Hudson piled through the door from Operations and sealed it. Within seconds the xenomorphs began beating on the doors, deforming the heavy steel.

Newt, the only surviving member of the colony on this godforsaken rock, began removing the grate covering an entrance to the colony’s air duct system, urgently telling the others to follow her. Ripley was right behind Newt, followed by Hicks and Vasquez, with Gorman and Hudson bringing up the rear.

They made good progress, their speed increased by their desperation not to be caught by the pursuing creatures and to get off LV-426 before the nearby atmosphere processor exploded in a thermonuclear blast. Suddenly, Vasquez and Gorman heard a break in Hudson’s weapon fire, followed by the private’s agonized yells.

“GO!” Gorman roared at Vasquez as he turned to go to the fallen soldier’s aid.

“You always were an asshole” Vasquez choked out as she ran forward to join the others. She knew neither Gorman nor Hudson would survive.

 

Vasquez tried to ignore Ripley’s anguished yells as she and Hicks herded the frantic woman into the elevator.  They had failed to reach Newt in time, and now the girl had been taken by those fucking monsters. Vasquez knew Ripley would search the creatures’ hive for Newt, and she was just as determined as Hicks to be there for-

An alien lunged at the closing elevator door. Vasquez and Hicks fired simultaneously, shredding the beast. Both marines howled in pain as its blood hit them, corroding Hicks’s armor, and leaving Vasquez’s left arm and leg ruined. As Ripley helped them reach the dropship Bishop had waiting on the surface, Vasquez wondered if it wouldn’t be better to stay on LV-426 and die with Newt at the claws of the aliens. She was barely aware of being strapped into her seat or of Ripley's order to set course for the atmosphere processor as she blacked out.

 

 

Part II:

1/28/88, Citadel, low geosynchronous orbit over London

Commander Molly Shepard glared at the thing that called itself the Catalyst. Not only did it claim to be the mastermind behind the Reapers, sentient starships hell-bent on wiping out most of galactic civilization, it also had the audacity to present itself as a ghostly image of Kaidan Alenko, a member of Shepard’s crew who had died four years ago. It was also claiming that Shepard had to choose between destroying the Mass Relays, an act which would produce supernovas in most of the galaxy’s inhabited systems, or submit to the Reapers and their genocidal intentions.

“No,” Shepard grated.

“No?” the Catalyst echoed, its ethereal rendition of Kaidan’s baritone adding to Shepard’s ire.

“I don’t think our choices are that bleak,” Shepard said, gesturing towards the control consoles behind the Catalyst. “You claim that synthetics will destroy organics, and your Reapers are trying to do precisely that, just to prove you right. But if you had given any of them a chance, all the previous civilizations you wiped out may have reached the point we are now at with the geth. Synthetics and organics are at peace with each other. You and all the other fucking Reapers are the real threat to civilization. And we will end you on our terms.”

“No, you cannot! We make way for old life, storing the old life in Reaper form. It is necessary. You would destroy yourselves otherwise.”

“Bullshit. The protheans gave us the edge we needed, and now the whole galaxy opposes you. You claim to seek a solution to the problem of organic-synthetic interactions, and guess what? We’re here, fighting you together. Even the leviathans are on our side. Your creators are trying to stop you, because your solution is flawed, and your reason to exist has ended.”

“My creators are part of the problem, as are you. Your minds are organic, and cannot grasp the extent of the required solution. There is no other way. You must choose to submit or create a galaxy without the inevitable conflict.”

“You mean without life. Conflict is what allows life, both organic and synthetic, to grow and evolve. Your solution and false choices halt that growth.”

“The conflict you seek will destroy you.”

“Your Reapers are trying to destroy us. Without them we may have continued along the path you manipulated us onto. But thanks to your shortsighted arrogance, we’ve be able to do your job for you. Now go to hell!”

“SO BE IT,” the Catalyst unexpectedly thundered, its voice now the voice of Harbinger, the largest Reaper. When it next spoke, it was once again imitating Kaidan. “The cycle will continue.”

It turned away from Shepard and took a step towards the console it claimed would indicate submission to the Reapers. Before it could take a second step a massive shower of sparks erupted from the console, arcing into the Catalyst and slamming the ghostly figure to the floor.

Shepard turned to see a geth prime towering behind her. The synthetic’s all black plating marked it as one of the mysterious geth corsairs, a hive-minded faction of the geth that had hidden themselves from all others to prepare for war with the Reapers.

“Your assumption of victory is false,” came the precise, mechanical voice. “Shepard-Commander already indicated that your initial purpose has been achieved. Attempting to continue the present course would be indicative of faulty programming. We will correct the fault.”

“NO!” The Catalyst roared as the geth began calmly firing into the control consoles. Its figure flickered as the geth’s shots chewed deeper into the machinery, disrupting whatever twisted processes the Catalyst called solutions.

Shepard gathered a wave of dark energy and flung it at the Catalyst. “We are organic and synthetic, we are alive, and we will not submit. Now die.”

“Shepard-Commander, we have disrupted the security hardware of the Catalyst-Reaper. We will now attempt to gain root access. Shall we terminate all Reaper hardware and software once access has been achieved?” The geth prime appeared completely uninterested in Shepard’s attack or the Catalyst’s subsequent dissipation.

“Kill them all.”

“Acknowledged.”

 

***

Fourteen months later…

 

 

Chapter 1

Molly Shepard woke slowly. The mere fact that she was in her bed, coupled with a total lack of an adrenaline rush, could mean only one thing. For the second time in three months her crew had sedated her.

The first time they had done this it had been Garrus’s idea. He had decided that she shouldn’t see combat on her first day out of a med-bay, and convinced Doctor Chakwas to sedate the Commodore in her sleep. Shepard’s first mission against the Cerberus Remnant went off text-doc smooth, and she had slept through the whole thing. Garrus had later commented that it was probably the lack of rampaging singularities that contributed to the mission’s success. Shepard had threatened to kick his scaly ass from the main battery to the shuttle bay if he tried it again.

She sat up, feeling the Lazarus implants throughout her body battling the unnatural lethargy that tugged at her limbs and eyes. A languid glance at the chrono in her omnitool told her she had been out for about twelve hours. That at least explained why she was hungry. However, it raised the questions of just how much sedative had been used, and why it had taken her cybernetics so long to adapt.

Desperately in need of something to do, if only get a large cup of extremely powerful coffee, Molly briefly weighed the pros and cons of staggering into the mess as she was now. When she realized she was seriously considering leaving her cabin in nothing more than her underwear, she fell back on her bed and shut her eyes. For the sedative to have induced that kind of thought meant it was too insidious to be one of Garrus’s plots. Miranda and Chakwas were now the prime suspects.

The sound of her door opening was closely followed by the seductive scent of blessed coffee. Molly opened one eye to watch her raven haired wife set a tray on the table in the center of their quarters.

“I know you want this,” Samantha Traynor’s soft English accent dripped with amusement. “However, it’s not coming to you in bed. You’re going to have to come and get.”

“Heartless woman,” Molly growled lovingly. “I know you agreed to the sedative. The least you could do is at least attempt to make this trying experience less painful.”

Samantha just rolled her dark eyes. The infamous Shepard Snark was impervious to all forms of harm. The best one could do when the Snark was loose was divert its attention. Fortunately, the coffee was a perfect distraction. Molly claimed she was not above occasionally showing off her biotic prowess, but she was really working on regaining the fine control she had lost during her coma. She currently had the coffee pot enveloped in the electric blue corona of a biotic field as it poured itself into the large mug Samantha had brought for just that purpose. She waited until the mug had floated into Molly’s hands before dropping a rather mean bombshell.

“James made the coffee.”

Molly’s lips stopped just short of the mug, her bright green eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. Lieutenant-Commander Vega’s propensity for culinary disasters was legendary. The running consensus was that his unique creations were due to his approach to cooking. It strongly resembled his approach to combat.

After a moment of watching Samantha struggling to contain a mischievous grin, Molly took a sip. Sure enough, it was simply very strong coffee. James probably hadn’t even been on the crew deck when it was brewed. A few sips more and Molly was ready to have a real conversation.

“Who proposed the sedative?”

“EDI did. Doctor Chakwas approved it on medical grounds. Garrus approved it on tactical grounds. Samara approved it on moral grounds. Javik and I just approved.”

“What, are all of you conspiring against me?”

Samantha poured herself some coffee and sat on the bed, her dark skin contrasting sharply with Molly’s pale complexion.

“Hardly, love. We simply made a decision to keep your stress level low, and the _Normandy_ ’s structural integrity uncompromised.”

Molly paused, all traces of mirth gone. What, apart from the Cerberus Remnant, could be related to the stricken vessel _Sulaco_ that would trigger her lethal ire?

“EDI?” Shepard called to the ceiling.

“Commodore” the AI’s tone was guarded, and her use of Molly’s rank could only mean the news was not going to be good.

“Full report, now.”

“Very well. We now have positive ID on the Cerberus Remnant’s allies. A corporation called Weyland-Yutani. They appear to have a sizable force of synthetics and clones, which are being used to supplement the Remnant’s lack of personnel. Both organizations had troops boarding the _Sulaco_. Their orders were part of an operation codenamed: Poetic Justice. The primary goal of the operation was to have a human woman named Ellen Ripley implanted with the embryo of an _internecivus raptus_ , which Weyland-Yutani refers to as xenomorphs. The only possible explanation for the codename came from internal surveillance recordings off the _Sulaco_.

“Upon reaching the _Sulaco_ , Marshal Vakarian led the first fire team, Captain Williams led the second. I authorized the creation of a third team under the command of Justicar Samara upon receiving Marshal Vakarian’s report that one of the survivors aboard the _Sulaco_ was a child, and that the attackers orders stipulated no witnesses, to be accomplished by any means necessary. Commander Javik and Lieutenant Lawson accompanied Justicar Samara and ensured no Cerberus or Weyland-Yutani personnel survived. All survivors from the _Sulaco_ are safe in the med-bay. Samus Aran is also aboard.”

“What’re these surveillance recordings that offer a possible explanation for the codename of the attack?”

The cabin lights dimmed as a hologram came to life on one wall. Milky white fluid was spraying from a man who was being torn in half by a huge monster that resembled a highly developed xenomorph. A small girl and a woman ran for cover was the still twitching halves of the man were discarded. The monstrosity turned its attention towards the child, only to be interrupted by the woman piloting some kind of cargo mech. A swift but violent fight followed, ending with the xenomorph being blown out the airlock.

“Grunt will like her,” Molly said as the cabin brightened again. “EDI, when can I speak with them?”

“The synthetic, Bishop, is already functional, despite the damage he sustained. The others should recover shortly. However, Doctor Chakwas and Bishop have requested they be given time to recover. Bishop estimates that recovery could take up to twenty-four hours. Ten of those have already lapsed. He also indicates that Ripley is highly resourceful and strong-willed. He will not say more without her permission. I think we could be seeing the early stages of a LEGION complex.”

“Tali will be overjoyed,” Molly muttered sarcastically. Despite the chief engineer’s acceptance of AI’s, she never quite liked the idea of synthetics idolizing organics.

“Ripley is worthy of admiration, Shepard.” EDI’s tone carried a note of reproof. “What logs I was able to obtain prior to the _Sulaco_ ’s destruction suggests she is, in many ways, just as dedicated and deadly as you.”

Molly cocked an eyebrow at Samantha, who shrugged.

“It would seem that when it comes to the xenomorphs, you aren’t the only queen on the board.”

“Let’s just hope she’s a queen on our side. If she can’t help us wipe them out like we did the rachni…” Shepard’s voice trailed off, leaving unsaid thoughts that had once been second nature to her.

Samantha’s chocolate eyes searched Molly’s face. She had watched her wife throughout the war, going from her commanding officer, to her friend, to her lover. And finally, the first day Molly had regained consciousness after the war, Samantha had proposed. Molly had accepted, on the condition it not be officially recorded until she could stay awake for more than fifteen minutes. She had spent an hour straight the next day haranguing the geth medics about how their connection speed slowing down her marriage.

Samantha smiled and shook her head at the memory. The synthetic medics were even more immovable than organic doctors, and then-Commander Shepard had browbeat a dozen of them into submission as if she hadn’t just been in a six month coma. Truly, the day the galaxy stopped underestimating this woman would be the day Samantha lost all her faith in anything.

Molly smiled back. “I have time for one game of chess before I get back to pretending to be responsible.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A startled squeak, followed by an equally startled grunt, jerked Dwayne Hicks awake. He struggled upright against his bandages and looked across the room. A small blonde girl was clinging tightly to a willowy brunette in the bed across from his. Newt and Ripley. They were safe.

“Are you all right?” two concerned, familiar voices asked. Hicks glanced to his right and saw Bishop gliding towards them in some kind of wheelchair. Most of the android’s torso was encased in a translucent plastic bag filled with a dark, graphite colored liquid. To Hicks’s left Jenette Vasquez was trying to get out of another bed, despite having only two functioning limbs. Her left arm was immobilized by bandages and below the elbow was encased in a bag similar to the one Bishop was is, though the fluid in Vasquez’s bag was dark blue. Her left leg was wrapped in bandages, much the way Hicks’s torso was.

Newt nodded as her eyes roamed the room. “Where are we?”

“The medical bay of a ship called _Normandy_. It seems that the _Sulaco_ began transmitting a distress signal as soon as we left LV-426. The first boarders arrived sixty hours later. They were Company troops accompanied by an unknown organization. Their orders included implantation of xenomorph embryos in survivors as part of a contingency plan should Mr. Burke fail. They were interrupted by an ally of the _Normandy_ ’s crew, who held the boarders off until the _Normandy_ arrived and was able to evacuate us. The _Sulaco_ ’s self-destruct was activated as a last ditch attempt by the Company and their allies to prevent our survival. We’ve been aboard for about eleven hours.”

“And we’re only just now waking up?” Hicks asked incredulously. Next to him, Vasquez reluctantly abandoned her efforts to rise.

“The Company troops attempted to sabotage our sleep pods. The _Normandy_ ’s medical officer, Dr. Chakwas, was able to stabilize you three. A healing gel and fresh bandages were applied to your acid burns, Corporal, and Newt was given a shot to help with the borderline malnutrition. Unfortunately, Private, there was little we could do for your arm and leg. The creature’s blood had caused too much damage. Dr. Chakwas has told me you can be fitted with prosthetics once we reach a facility that has the necessary equipment. She also recommended that we remain here in the medbay for at least twenty-four hours to ensure there are no further medical concerns.”

Vasquez nodded, her face drawn and tight. Hicks knew how much Vasquez despised being the one receiving care. Before LV-426 she had almost always been the first member of the platoon into combat, determined to protect her fellow soldiers from harm. Not being able to move, to be as active as she loved to be, would have her spitting bullets.

“Where is this Dr. Chakwas now?” Ripley asked, bringing Hicks’s mind back to the situation at hand.

“She’s resting”, Bishop responded. “She spent almost ten straight hours ensuring you three would make a complete recovery. The only reason she isn’t dozing in here is the _Normandy_ ’s artificial intelligence and I convinced her we would be able to take care of you for at least a few hours.”

Hicks glanced at Ripley. He had never heard of a ship's AI talking a person into a course of action, especially a doctor. To give himself time to think, Hicks looked around the room, trying to figure out what type of ship they were on. He didn’t recognize the design of the medical bay, and he had never heard of a ship called _Normandy_. If Bishop hadn’t told him less than three days had passed since leaving LV-426 he would have sworn the _Sulaco_ had drifted for decades, just as Ripley had done after the loss of her crew.

Suddenly, Hicks spotted something that almost certainly didn’t belong in the medical bay. A metallic orange sphere, perhaps a meter wide, was nestled underneath some equipment on the opposite side of the room. Part of him wondered how it had taken so long to spot something so colorful in the sterile white of the medical bay. The rest of him wanted to know if it was dangerous. Something about the orb seemed off.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding towards it.

Bishop followed his gaze.

“I don’t know”, he responded. “It was here when I was reactivated. It hasn’t moved, and no one mentioned it. Why do you ask?”

“It seems out of place. Do you think the AI would tell us?”

“EDI?” Bishop called towards the ceiling.

“Yes?” a smoothly modulated, feminine voice responded.

“Were you listening to our conversation?”

“No. Out of respect for the privacy for patients of the medbay, I only monitor medical sensors, nothing more.”

“I was wondering about a bright orange sphere on the floor in here,” Hicks explained. “It’s about a meter across and resting under some of the equipment.”

“That would be Samus Aran, the ally of ours who first picked up the distress signal from your ship. She was also the one who slowed down the Cerberus and Weyland-Yutani troops that had boarded.”

“It’s female?” Ripley asked incredulously. “It looks like some kind of weird robot.”

“That is the impression many get the first time they meet her,” the AI’s voice now carried a distinct note of amusement. “However, her manners are not usually so lacking.”

At those words the ball rolled out from under the equipment and stood up. Suddenly it was a very tall humanoid, covered in heavy looking orange and gold armor. The two halves of ball had become the figures shoulders, between which nestled a red helmet. A baleful green visor took up most of the helmet. The figure’s right arm terminated in a pale, metallic green cannon, and three curved spikes stuck out of the left forearm at a low angle. The whole thing was clearly built for war.

Hicks saw Ripley tense out of the corner of his eye. A sharp hiss and the sound of creaking from the other bed meant Vasquez had again tried to move. Both women had picked up on the potential danger the thing represented faster than he had. Ripley’s expression was hard and determined, any fear buried deep. It was the same look she had had when preparing to storm the alien hive to rescue Newt. Hicks found himself hoping the looming figure was friendly. If it wasn’t, things were going to get messy.

The figure, Samus, raised its hand as if to forestall hostilities.

“I do not yet mean you harm,” it said in a low, powerful timbre. It reached up and touched a point under the chin of its helmet, which glowed gold and vanished. Beneath the helmet was a woman. She had a striking, avian face, piercing blue eyes, and long blonde hair. Framed by her armor, her countenance was one of strength and casual competence.

“Yet?” Ripley echoed.

“If you are willingly involved in bioweapon research, I will kill you.” Aran’s tone was flat.

“The hell you will!” Vasquez snarled. A low, agonized growl escaped her as she managed to rise, despite her handicap.

“Bioweapons?” Hicks asked, desperately trying to stall for time. “Why would you think we were involved with bioweapons?”

“The distress signal Cardinal broadcasted from your ship stated the bioweapon source on LV-426 had been destroyed. The only reason I suspect you were involved unwillingly in bioweapon research is that the same distress call specifically mentioned Ripley’s survival, and ordered the execution of an operation codenamed ‘Poetic Justice’. I need to know what was on LV-426, and your involvement with it.”

“Who the fuck is Cardinal?” Vasquez’s voice made it clear she was perfectly willing to engage Samus as she hobbled forward.         

“Samus!” EDI snapped before the warrior could respond. “This is not the time. I must ask you to leave the medbay on the grounds that your continued presence is adversely affecting the health of our patients.”

“I do not answer to you, computer.” Aran’s voice was deadly cold.

“Perhaps not,” a new voice said, “but this is my ship Aran, and you will follow all instructions pertaining to the health of medbay occupants.”

The speaker was several inches shorter than Aran, and had a lithe, dancer’s body. Hard green eyes blazed in a pale face beneath fiery red hair. Her movements as she advanced towards the other woman were coordinated and precise, the movements of soldier. She advanced without hesitation until she stood within a foot of Aran, her face devoid of concern for herself.

“You know the danger posed by waiting,” Aran grated.

“Nuke it like the rest. Now get out.”

Aran saluted mockingly and stalked out the door the new woman had entered through, her heavy boots echoing ominously. The newcomer turned to the _Sulaco_ ’s survivors.

“I’m sorry about that. She doesn’t know how to stop working, though that does not excuse her trying to interrogate you. I’m Commodore Shepard, commanding officer of the _Normandy SR-2_. Please stand down, Private Vasquez.”

As Vasquez returned to her bed after a moment’s hesitation, Hicks looked at Ripley and shrugged. Shepard wasn’t making thinly veiled threats, which was an improvement, but the mention of Weyland-Yutani and bioweapon research had Hicks feeling cautious. None of them knew anything about where they were, and if Shepard was hostile and let Aran back in… Hicks’s thoughts trailed off uncomfortably. He’d follow Ripley’s lead. She had gotten them off LV-426 alive, and there was no one else Hicks trusted so implicitly.

Ripley set Newt on the bed and stood.

“The last person who was so helpful right after I woke up from hypersleep tried to screw me over for the so-called bioweapons of LV-426. Why should I trust you?” Her voice was honest, but challenging.

"Because you have no other choice. Weyland-Yutani and the Cerberus Remnant are hunting you, this is the only ship that can get you safety, and you're the only one who might have the knowledge to prevent another galactic war."

"'Another'?" Hicks echoed in disbelief. "There's never been a galaxy-wide war."

"Not in your Milky Way, Corporal."

"What do you mean, 'our Milky Way'?" Vasquez demanded.

Shepard sighed. "Our enemies, the Reapers, set a trap. If they lost the war they would trigger supernova strength explosions in most inhabited systems. We were able to partially disarm the trap, merely crippling communication and travel across the galaxy. We don't know what happened or if the Reapers planned it, but... _holes_ were torn in space. Here it's 2189 and the Reaper War ended fourteen months ago."

Hicks glanced at Bishop, seeking some kind of confirmation. The android slowly nodded.

"I didn't believe it until EDI shared her sensor data with me" he said. "We are in a different Milky Way."

Hicks looked back at Ripley, seeing his own shock mirrored in her face. The distance between them and home was greater than he had ever thought possible. They truly had no choice but to trust Shepard.

"What do you want from us?" Ripley asked.

Shepard smiled and raised her arm. A sheath of glowing orange light surrounded her forearm, terminating in a disk around her hand. Her right hand danced through the light above her wrist. A rectangular video appeared in mid-air just below Shepard's eye level. Hicks and Vasquez watched in horror as a massive alien tore Bishop in half and attacked Newt, then in admiration as Ripley killed it with a power loader and an airlock.

"That video told me everything I need to know about you" Shepard informed an almost embarrassed looking Ripley. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Shepard turned on her heel and left the medbay.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Shepard paused outside the Starboard Observation Lounge and checked her omnitool. The orange holographic display told her that her executive officer, Captain Ashley Williams, was alone within. While this meant Shepard didn’t have to worry about interrupting Ashley and James, she still didn’t like the idea of her second in command being unsupervised for too long.

Shepard keyed opened the door and, after a quick scan of the room, gave an inward sigh of relief. There were no bottles in sight, and the pictures of Ashley’s family in one corner were all upright. Ashley herself was staring pensively out the viewport, the blue glow of her artificial eye reflecting off the thick pane. Her dark, shoulder length hair was better groomed than it had been in months.

Despite the good signs, some of the more disturbing signs of the past eight months were still present. Ashley’s skin was still grayish with grief, and she hadn’t started gaining back the weight she had lost since the end of the war. She was a still a shell of her former self, sustained almost entirely by her sorrow.

“Hey, Skipper.” Ashley’s voice was hollow, mechanical.

Shepard winced a little. Of all times she could have picked to walk in on Ashley, it was when the younger woman was lost in memories of her slaughtered mother and sisters.

“I can come back.”

“Chakwas tells me I should keep busy, take my mind off things.” Ashley’s voice didn’t change.

Shepard swallowed an uncharacteristic lump in her throat. “Ash… I don’t need you to forget. No one on this ship went through what you did. Those memories are a part of you, just as your memories of Eden Prime are. Experiences like that shape who you are, and you’re still the best damn XO I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t let Miranda hear you say that.” Something akin to the ghost of a laugh entered Ashley’s voice. Her head turned towards Shepard a little, bringing some of the vicious shrapnel scars that covered her face into the Commodore’s view.

Shepard seized the opening. “I’ve just spoken to our guests. I would like you and Samara to speak with them tomorrow, try and help them get acclimated to the fact that they’ll be aboard for at least a week. Also I want you to answer any questions they might have.”

“Why us?”

“Because I think both of you will be easy for Ripley to relate to. The others are all following her lead, so gaining her trust will bring the others around. Also, we don’t know how many non-human species they’ve had contact with, so their reactions to Samara should be illuminating. She also has more experience reading new people than anyone else here, and as an asari her appearance shouldn’t be too alien to them.”

“Why not Liara?”

“As the Shadow Broker she’s more inclined to take secrets than share them. Just because I’d trust her to run a shadow campaign against the Cerberus Remnant doesn’t mean I’d trust her to tell our guests enough. You and Samara, however, can be trusted to be as open as necessary. As both a captain of the Alliance and a SPECTRE, you have the authority to share whatever you judge is needed.”

“When?”

“No earlier than tomorrow, doctor’s orders. After that, as soon as they’re ready.”

Ashley nodded and turned back to the viewport.

“ _Mórrígan tú a choinneáil_ ” Shepard whispered as she left, noting that Ashley had never looked directly at her the entire time they’d been speaking.

***

Samus was studying the memorial wall when Shepard emerged from her talk with Ashley.

“How many more names would be here if you had waited for delicate non-combatants during the war?”

Shepard bristled. “Our current situation is in no way comparable to the war. The monsters Weyland-Yutani calls xenomorphs have no technology of their own and appear all but incapable of operating ours. The Cerberus Remnant and Weyland-Yutani are too busy trying to turn the xenomorphs in effective bioweapons to launch a real attack against us. And the Ugly Motherfuckers are only attacking combat units. Our mission is to prevent these things from interfering with our civilians while they rebuild. So far, we’re doing a good job.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It answers you very well. We may not be blowing up their bases, but we are preventing any significant advances. We have the luxury of waiting now that we did not have two years ago.”

Aran turned her cold gaze on Shepard. “You’ve carried out only two genocides, Commodore. I’ve done four, and destroyed three planets in the process. There has always been another danger. Choosing not to fight is a luxury you will never have.”

“Bullshit. Once we’ve dealt with our extra-galactic troubles I’m done. Others can finish off Cerberus. I’ve fought enough.”

“If you truly believe that then you are unfit to lead us. Your commitment must be to the mission, not achieving a soft life.”

“There are more important things in life than the next mission,” a low, serene voice interjected. “Shepard has earned the right to retire from a life of war.”

“And what would she do?” Aran’s voice was contemptuous as she turned to face the speaker.

Samara regarded the bounty hunter dispassionately. Her stance was loose, ready to spring into action. Calm lavender eyes locked on challenging blue ones. Indifferently bared scars, relics of the war, marred deep blue skin in a statement more ominous than the subtle flare of biotics. The asari was as ready to kill as ever, and Aran was not backing down.

Shepard calmly stepped between the antagonists. “I will do the same thing I’m doing now. Help my family. Maybe even add some members to it.”

Aran sneered. “What help does Traynor need?”

“My wife is not my only family member. You’re surrounded by them every time you set foot on my ship.”

The sudden pain in Aran’s eyes was so unexpected that Shepard reeled in shock.

“Samus?”

“Family is more than blood,” the blonde woman muttered as she stared at the floor a few feet to the right of Shepard.

“You also know that?”

Cold blue eyes flicked back to Shepard.

“Better than you ever will. I’ve watched more family members sacrifice themselves for me than you’ve lost. Only two were blood relatives. Do not think matters of family are beyond me, Shepard. I know what family means. If you would fight for them, then know that you will always be the one to avenge them.”

Turning her back on Shepard and Samara, Samus vanished into the _Normandy_ ’s lift.

Samara touched Shepard’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Molly?”

“I’m fine. A little surprised, but fine.”

“I also did not expect Aran to reveal so much about herself.”

Molly nodded and turned to face the justicar. Samara’s eyes were pensive, but the rest of her demeanor was calm and controlled. It was the same look Samara had worn during the hunt for Morinth, her murderous daughter.

Shepard shook the ghost of unpleasant memories from the forefront of her mind. Despite what she had said to Samus about the luxury of waiting, it would be better to accomplish what needed doing sooner rather than later. She nodded towards the _Normandy_ ’s Port Observation room, and the well-stocked bar within.

“C’mon, Samara. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jenette sat in her bed, feeling as shaken as Ellen looked. She had gotten an answer to many of her initial questions over the past two hours, albeit while more had been raised. All of which paled in consideration to the information she had convinced Dr Chakwas to share. Most of her lower arm was gone, melted by the alien’s – _xenomorph_ she corrected herself- blood. The remaining part of her forearm had been killed by the residual toxins left after the she had gotten the acidic fluid off of her. It was a wonder any part of her arm remained at all, though her hand was gone. Still, it was better than what had happened to Drake.

Jenette shuddered. She knew she had had no choice but to kill that thing that had reared its ugly head behind Drake. If she hadn’t, it almost certainly would have gotten into the APC, and they all might have died. Still the knowledge was little comfort. She had killed the xenomorph, and its blood had killed Drake. One of her closest friends, and she was responsible for his death.

_Stop it_! She admonished herself. _You can_ _’_ _t protect the others if you_ _’_ _re consumed by survivor_ _’_ _s guilt! You_ _’_ _re at least as strong as that Captain Williams, and she_ _’_ _s got a face full of scars and only one of her original eyes!_

“Ellen?” Dwayne’s tentative question broke Jenette’s train of thought. “What’s wrong?”

“That image they showed us of Cardinal.” Ellen’s voice was taut. “Cardinal is the same model of synth - sorry, Bishop – artificial person that Ash was.”

“Ash?” Jenette was fairly certain she didn’t want to know.

“A sleeper agent the Company placed aboard the _Nostromo_. His orders were to ensure we found those things in the first place, and to ensure one got back to Earth for the Company to study. Whatever the cost.”

Jenette unconsciously bared her teeth. That sounded like the sort of underhanded bullshit Weyland-Yutani would pull, especially if they kept sleazy little shits like Burke on the payroll. Unbidden, the memory of something she had said to Ripley before they landed on LV-426 rose to the surface. _“_ _I only need to know one thing: where they are._ _”_ Then, she had been full of confidence in her ability to blow anything away. Now, her rage was filling her with a similar drive. Except this time, she wouldn’t be fighting nightmares from who knew where. This time, she was determined to kill the human monsters who had put all of them through this.

“Do you think there are other good aliens, like Samara?” Newt piped up. She was looking at the door to the medbay with wide eyes, as if expecting something else new to walk through them.

“I think so.” Ellen’s voice was light, comforting. “Justicar Samara and Captain Williams both said this was a multi-species ship. Or do you mean more warriors like Samara?”

“More warriors,” Newt said emphatically. “She’s dangerous like you and Vasquez, but also like a mommy. She wanted to comfort and protect us.”

You were able to pick up on that?” Jenette was startled. She had known that Newt was resourceful and intelligent for her age, but such an assessment was more than she had expected from the young girl.

Newt nodded. “My first mommy was like that when the monsters started attacking.” She snuggled closer to Ellen, seeking comfort from the bad memories.

Jenette winced. Of course, Newt had seen too much before the _Sulaco_ arrived. There was no way she’d be unable to pick up on such subtleties on body language and word choice now.

***

Hicks moved gingerly as he left the head. Despite the stiffness he felt it was good to be up and moving again. He had been feeling restless since he, Ellen, and Jenette had woken up yesterday. Today’s visit from Captain Williams and Justicar Samara had only added to his desire to not be stuck in the medical bed. Plus, catheters and bedpans gave him the creeps.

Part of him felt slightly guilty. Jenette also wanted to get up and move around, but Dr Chakwas, a kindly English lady, had politely forbidden it. Jenette’s defiant stand against Aran had done no good for her condition, and Dr Chakwas had instructed her to not even attempt to move into a wheelchair until tomorrow morning. Ellen and Newt had decided to stay in the medbay with Jenette until she was ready to move. Hicks would have done the same if Bishop hadn’t encouraged him to move around a bit.

Hicks was so caught up in his thoughts he nearly ran down a tall figure as he rounded the corner to return to the medbay. He staggered as his reflexes tried to force his body to move faster than was healthy, and only the figure’s own lightning fast arm movement kept Hicks upright.

“Sorry” Hicks muttered, looking away. He didn’t feel like talking to another of the _Normandy_ ’s crew right now. It took a second longer for him to realize the hand supporting him had only three digits.

“No problem, Corporal” a deep, strangely flanging voice said. Hicks jerked in surprise, getting his first good look at the person.

The alien was tall, easily over six feet. Its feline face was covered in swept back scales that almost seemed like stylized feathers. Metallic green eyes regarded him from deep sockets. The mandibles on both sides of the alien’s face twitched as it studied Hicks. Its limbs were long and wiry, and its knees bent backwards. The blue and silver armor it wore lent it bulk, but Hicks suspected the alien was thinner than Vasquez underneath. The right side of its face was pocked by dozens of small scars.

After a moment of studying each other, the alien spoke again. “Are you alright, Corporal? You looked a little shocked.”

“I’m fine. Though how did – you must have seen the _Sulaco_ ’s passenger list.”

“Yes. I led the first team from the _Normandy_ to aid you. I’m Garrus Vakarian.”

Vakarian let go of Hicks and extended his other hand. Hicks slowly shook it, curious in spite of himself. He thought about Newt’s comment about warriors like Samara. While Vakarian didn’t have the same comforting, dignified air Samara had, his reflexes and stance screamed veteran fighter. Not just elite military, like Hicks had seen in Sergeant Apone, but down and dirty fighting, like the way Drake had carried himself.

Hicks mentally shook himself. “Sorry” he said again as moved out of Vakarian’s way. The tall alien shrugged, a remarkably human gesture.

“From what we were able to pull from the _Sulaco_ ’s logs, you don’t have to be. Few of us on this ship have gone through anything so costly, despite the War. The fact that you have clearly never seen a turian before, coupled with the fact you only moved back far enough to get a good look at me, says a lot about you.”

Hicks nodded, unsure of what to say. Vakarian was polite, even bordering on friendly, yet still Hicks didn’t want to become involved just yet. He needed time to think. But he also needed to learn about the ship, and galaxy, where they had ended up. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again when nothing came to mind.

Vakarian nodded towards a wall behind Hicks to the left. “That’s where I was going.” His mandibles flared slightly at Hicks’s confused expression. “I’ve spent a lot of time around humans. I’ve learned to read your body language.”

Hicks turned to look at the wall, trying not to notice the look on Vakarian’s face that was both far too knowing, and far too alien. The wall itself had a two columns of names, with the name Admiral David Anderson between them. It was obviously a memorial.

Hicks glanced at Vakarian, and say the alien’s – _turian?_ – eyes on the names. His face was now totally unreadable, and Hicks found himself wondering if Vakarian had displayed emotions the way a human would earlier to make things easier. Suddenly the urge to get back to the medbay was very strong, but so was the compulsion to afford Vakarian’s memories some dignity.

After a moment of silence Vakarian spoke in a low voice. “All the names on this wall were shipmates of ours who died during the War. Admiral Anderson was the last one.”

“What was he like?” Hicks’s voice was just as low as Vakarian’s.

“I only met him a few times. He commanded the first _Normandy_ before Shepard did. He was strong, a soldier to the end. When the Reapers took Earth early in the War, he stayed behind to help the survivors. Eleven of you months leading the resistance in occupied territory, only to be killed less than half an hour before the War ended.”

After another moment Vakarian seemed to rouse himself.

“I know Shepard asked Ashely and Samara to take care of you and the other survivors” he said, “but I will answer your questions if I’m able.” Hicks nodded his thanks and turned away. He had taken only few steps before Vakarian called a bit of advice to him.

“Breakfast is usually at 0730, ship time. Given the way the other humans go through the coffee and bacon, I would recommend getting there early.”

***

The next morning found Hicks, Ellen, Jenette, Newt, and Bishop sitting at the mess hall’s massive table early, eating a far better breakfast than what they’d have gotten on the _Sulaco_ if things hadn’t gone to hell. Vakarian was there with them, in seeming better spirits that his previous encounter with Hicks.

A few other members of the _Normandy_ ’s crew, all human, were milling around. None seemed inclined to intrude on their guests’ space, which Vakarian explained was half because of Shepard’s orders, and half because rumor spread fast on smaller ships. Most of the crew would keep their distance out of basic human decency.

A young looking asari entered the mess’s kitchen area and poured herself a cup of coffee. Hicks idly wondered how old she was. Samara had said she was a little over eight hundred and that her species was long-lived. The asari in the kitchen looked like she was in her twenties, but somehow he doubted it.

“IS THIS SOME KINDA GODDAM’ JOKE, T’SONI?” came a sudden explosion of noise from the elevator on the other side of the mess hall’s wall. A heavily scarred human was bearing down on the asari, his gait only slightly hampered by his prosthetic right leg. The asari arched an eyebrow.

“To what are you referring, Zaeed?” her voice was calm, but with an undercurrent of humor. All eyes turned towards the two of them, now less than three feet apart.

“You know damn well what” Zaeed ground out, his British accent thick with fury. He thrust some kind of pad towards the asari.

“You sent this to her as well. You tryin’ to get me killed?”

“I’ve merely been using my resources to help people find family members after the War. You know that.” T’Soni’s tone was calm and reasonable, but it was obvious to Hicks she was fighting laughter.

“Don’t give me that. Even if we are related, you think that was a good idea? I was with her and Shepard on Pragia, and I saw the files the Shadow Broker has on her. Giving her a link to her family is not what she needs, given everything else she’s been through.”

“Did I hear that right?” a women’s Australian accent cut through the silence. “ _You_ _’_ _re_ related to-“

“Don’t start, Lawson!” Zaeed rounded on the tall brunette who had entered the mess. She placed a hand with two artificial fingers on her cocked hip, and smirked.

“Why not? I am part of the Intelligence detachment on the _Normandy_.” Lawson seemed to be enjoying herself just as much as T’Soni. Hicks glanced at Vakarian, saw the turian’s shoulders shaking, and decided to ask later. He looked back at Zaeed, who seemed to notice the _Sulaco_ survivors watching him. His mismatched eyes narrowed, and he spun to face T’Soni again.

“You timed this, didn’t you?”

“Certainly not”, T’Soni sounded offended. “I had no idea Garrus would bring them to breakfast. And I certainly didn’t intend to share your familial information with anyone other than you and your niece. Who you shared that with was your choice. Now the entire crew deck knows.”

“And you’re wrong,” Lawson’s voice brooked no argument. “It’ll be good for her to have some link to her past before the Teltin facility. And it’ll be good for you to have someone else to care about.”

Zaeed opened his mouth, glanced around, and shut it. He stepped close to Lawson and whispered something that made the pale woman turn even whiter. Apparently satisfied, he stalked away.

“What was that?” Jenette’s voice hesitantly broke the silence. Vakarian shook his head.

“That’s not a subject I’ll broach. Massani may be one of the most difficult people I’ve met, but he’s a friend. Despite that display, this isn’t something he, his niece, or Lieutenant Lawson over there would want discussed, even with most of the _Normandy_ ’s crew.”

“Though it is kind of funny how Miranda thinks certain aspects are still secret,” a new, filtered voice chimed in. The speaker was slender, clad in a dark purple environmental suit. The way she sat down next to Vakarian, and the way he leaned to accept her, spoke of great closeness.

“Tali’Vakarian vas Normandy” she introduced herself. “I’m one of the chief engineers on board, and your friendly neighborhood quarian.”

“Quarian?” Newt’s eyes were wide and curious as she studied the new arrival.

“My species” vas Normandy explained. “I met Garrus on the first _Normandy_ , and we got married after the War. I remember needing a lot of things explained to me at first, and I thought it would be helpful if I did the same for you.”

“Thank you” Newt said politely. Hicks caught Ellen’s eye and gave her a small smile. For the moment, at least, things seemed peaceful, though Hicks suspected it would not last.


End file.
